


Your Crowning Glory

by sophiegaladheon



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Long-Haired Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Mutual Pining, The Summer of Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:28:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21956680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophiegaladheon/pseuds/sophiegaladheon
Summary: Viktor has beautiful hair.  Yuuri is dazzled.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 8
Kudos: 58
Collections: Yuri!!! on Ice Secret Skater 2019





	Your Crowning Glory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ravensmores](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravensmores/gifts).



> Happy Holidays, Ravensmores! I was your secret skater! I went with the prompt for everything is the same but Viktor never cut his hair. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> The title is from The Princess Diaries 2 and I make no apologies.

Viktor has beautiful hair.

Yuuri has always thought so, since the moment he first caught sight of him on the grainy old television in the Ice Castle locker room. A beautiful sweep of silver, as distinctive and unique as Viktor himself, the crowning adornment to his champions splendor.

Some of the sportswriters had called it a distraction, at first, a lazy attempt at showmanship. Yuuri always tossed those articles in the trash, anger pooling in the pit of his stomach before he could stop at the newsstand and find the latest adoring articles, with their enthusiastic interviews and flattering photo spreads.

Yuuri had never cared what the analysts and jealous detractors thought—Viktor’s hair was _beautiful_. It _added_ to his performance, it didn’t distract. Viktor knew how to use his whole self to enchant the audience, and Yuuri counted himself among the enraptured. 

Mari would tease him about it, had mocked him unbearably for his early-teenage attempts to emulate Viktor’s flowing locks (the less said about any of his brief forays into the land of Avant-Garde hair the better, all told), but she had always slipped him the pictures from her own magazines, whenever Viktor’s sponsorships ran more to the teenage girl demographic. (With the number of shampoo and hair care advertisements Viktor had done over the years, she’d saved him a lot of money on women’s magazines.)

Yuuri had never tried to hide his admiration for Viktor’s skating. He talked about how Viktor influenced him in interviews, his friends and family knew it as well as they knew his favorite food was katsudon, anyone who cared to look could see it clearly in his own skating (although he didn’t know anyone who would bother to look so closely). But few people knew how much he adored Viktor’s hair—how much he wanted to touch it, to run his hands through those silky silver tresses.

Of course, nearly everyone who had ever seen Viktor wanted to touch his hair—Viktor had even said in an interview once that he almost cut it once because people kept grabbing it.

And Yuuri would never want to make Viktor feel uncomfortable, to make him feel like Yuuri would violate his autonomy like that. 

But Viktor makes it so hard.

And he’s so _confusing_.

Because Viktor is in Yuuri’s family’s home. And he’s lounging over Yuuri’s family’s furniture. He’s draping himself over Yuuri, dressed only in a loose-fitting jinbei, with his beautiful, beautiful hair, flowing free and unbound from the sweeping up-do’s Viktor so fancies, spread over Yuuri’s lap.

Yuuri, in all of his many years of fantasizing about Viktor Nikiforov, never thought of this scenario. He does not know what to do. He is kind of freaking out.

He does nothing, staying very still until Viktor shifts in his sleep and he can get away to continue freaking out in private.

Yuuri does a lot more freaking out over the following weeks, over Viktor, and Viktor’s hair, and Viktor’s training, and Viktor choreographing a program for him, and the Onsen on Ice competition with Yuri Plisetsky, surprise houseguest number two. Yuuri has many things to be freaking out over. At least it keeps him from getting obsessive over any one of them. (That is a lie. He just gets obsessive over all of them.)

Viktor is late.

They’re supposed to be on their way to the Ice Castle to practice with Yuri and Viktor is late.

Yuuri knocks on the door to Viktor’s room hesitantly, then louder when he gets no response.

“Come in!”

Yuuri slides open the door and there is Viktor, standing in front of a tiny mirror that he’s hung on the wall, gracefully weaving his hair into an intricately braided crown more suited to sci-fi royalty than a real person. But somehow it works on Viktor.

“Yuuri! Is it time to leave? I’m almost done, just a moment. Wait, come here. Can you help me?”

Yuuri slides the door shut behind himself and walks across the room towards Viktor. Viktor’s smile widens, and Yuuri can feel his heart pounding. Viktor is dazzling and he is dazzled, still starstruck even after all these weeks.

“Can you hold this?” Viktor asked, gesturing to one of the braided ends twisting up into his hairdo. “I thought I’d try something new but it turns out I don’t have enough hands.” 

Slowly, Yuuri reaches out and takes the braid from Viktor, carefully holding it in place. Viktor flashes him a grin and goes back to the work of styling. Yuuri tries very hard not to move.

Viktor’s hair is soft under his fingers. It’s thinner than he expected, the strands silky and fine. From what Yuuri knows about hair it must take a lot of hairspray for Viktor to get his hair to stay up in its famous gravity-defying designs.

Yuuri would gladly stay put for an hour, caught in this strange, wonderful moment in time where he gets to watch Viktor so casual and comfortable, helping him with his routine, but Viktor is an expert at this skill as he is at so many others. It can’t be more than a minute or two before he gently takes the braid out of Yuuri’s grip and, with some miracle of hair elastics and a butterfly clip, finishes weaving in the final ends of his hairstyle.

He looks, as always, beautiful. But the unguarded, almost cheeky grin on his face, crinkling his nose as he turns his head to catch all the angles in the mirror twists something almost painful in Yuuri’s chest.

“There,” he says, with a final dose of hairspray and a pat, “not bad.” He turns to give Yuuri a grin. Whatever he sees on Yuuri’s face makes him pause, the smile sliding into confusion. Yuuri hastily wipes his expression blank. He doesn’t want to know what he looked like, mooning over Viktor.

Just for a moment, it looks like Viktor is about to say something. But there’s a knock at the door, loud, angry, and insistent.

“Come on! You’re late! It’s fine if the pig just wants to forfeit but if we’re going to this stupid competition then both you assholes better take it seriously. Let’s go!”

Whatever Viktor had been going to say he tucks it away behind a practiced, charming smile. “Of course,” he says, “shall we?” He gestures to the door and Yuuri follows him out.

He can still feel the faint echo of soft, silky hair between his fingers hours later, as the memory fights his exhaustion and he slips slowly to sleep.


End file.
